


Slowly (01:04:49)

by woollen_pharaohs



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Short Chapters, experimental/ambient style, mixed perspectives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 02:32:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11911368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woollen_pharaohs/pseuds/woollen_pharaohs
Summary: Dennis tries to find Dee at a sorority party.





	1. Last Saturday (00:59)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [haemophilus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haemophilus/gifts).



> I don't know where this came from... i blame Sif entirely. (Sorry that it's not the novel you wanted, that's still in the works!)
> 
> P.S. the chapter titles are taken directly from  
> [M83's eponymous 2001 album release](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j1krbhKDw-A&list=PL7CZ4TImzrFn2wiQStouuqtkUnTvK64V5&index=1). It's just really ambient, atmospheric music - much like this fic.

Can tab pops. A narrow hiss. Beer slides down her throat easily. Bubbles rising up her sinuses. Girls she recognises, girls she don’t know. Leering at her, their backs half turned, bitchy whispers dancing over their shoulders. Boys eavesdrop and smile the way her Dad smiles at the mention of strippers.


	2. Night (04:46)

They all want her. She knows that. Either they want her or they want to be her. That’s how she had felt with her professor. Not half bad for a man in his 60s. Enough hair to mask a receding hairline until the sweat matted it open. She was probably the best lay he ever had. Made him cum in under a minute, which only became satisfying when she came out of that class with a B. Too bad her other professors didn’t understand her papers well enough to award the mark she deserved.

She’s beyond her time.


	3. At The Party (01:01)

Last beer of the case. Crushed. She gets up. Slips on the wet grass and gets tastes dirt on her lip. She doesn’t hear laughter but some part of herself wishes she had. Wishes someone had seen, and laughed, or smiled, or ran across the lawn to help her up. But no one does. Snarky party guests wrapped around the veranda of the house in crinkled tissue paper. They try to hide themselves, but Dee can see right through.


	4. Dee (04:27)

She doesn’t notice the green grass smear on her cheek until she has already waded through the thick crop of people inside the house and arrived in the kitchen. A partially foggy window reflects an image of a monster. Stringy hair, green skin, bags under her eyes that are too big for her face. She takes a step forward and the reflection chases her. Flickers in the fog, and fades when she turns to the fridge. Pulls out a case of beer but drops it. Glass shatters. Beer pools on the marble floor.   
She leans into the fridge and pulls out another case with the monster and the voices rattling her steel cage.


	5. Sitting (03:05)

Fingers hooked around the case, wringing it through the crowd like a boulder, fuck the people who get hurt. Outside with the noise of the party glancing off the wet grass, she slips again. The beer case slams into the ground, a corner anchoring her secure. The sky sliding around in her vision like the beer in her stomach. Soft and unsettling and asking for more – for what? A clearer sky, more pollution, more self-hurt and clouds to hide how groggy and perpetually hung over the world is.


	6. Facing That (07:35)

A polyphonic ring tone.

“Where are you?”

“At the party.”

“I’m trying to find you.”

She hangs up.

 

_Yes, it’s true, I am your only friend. Nobody even knows you exist, but they will._

_All I have to do is wait._


	7. Violet Tree (04:53)

One B amongst a sea of Fs and her parents don’t even know that she’s dropped out yet. They keep sending her money. Every week. Without word. Would they stop if they knew she’s going to pursue acting? Would they even care…

 

She seems him across the wet lawn, dripping in tears. He’s dressed in white. Like a star torn from the sky, a molten rock burning for eternity with such life and energy, and such love to give to no one but her. Plummeting through the night, the ozone, the roof of the house party and sparkling against the eyes of no one worthy of seeing him in such pure form. Not the way she sees him.


	8. Staring At Me (01:37)

You see them in the garden drenched in shadows. Tall, willowy things. Wafting together like ethereal aliens. You’re with no one, because you have no one now, except your eyes, watching out. Eying that lonely girl under the tree. Your rapist getting closer. You don’t remember how it happened. But you remember his face. And waking up to find your underwear ripped on the carpet, a carpet burn to match on your elbows and thighs.

You watch out for her because she could be in danger. But they seem to know each other.


	9. I’m Getting Closer (05:20)

It’s risky. Going here, after what he’s known for, around here. Dee must know, right? She is a girl. And girls like to talk to each other about anything and everything, even things they shouldn’t talk about like what happened between a man and a woman on a steamy Friday night. But she’s also Dee. Dee who lit her roommate on fire. Dee who screwed a professor to get a good grade. Dee who looks a mess, slouched under low branches of a tree, with twigs in her hair and a smirk on her face.


	10. She Stands Up (05:42)

Dredging through the swamp, alligator eyes on her back and their jaws gnashing at the reeds banking them back. Crushed cans clattering down a gentle slope. Feet shuffling along soggy soil. Toes touch. Eyes meet. The memory of her cage turns to water and dissolves, lifts off her as mist in a gentle midnight breeze when his hand caresses her face.


	11. Caresses (06:32)

You watch her stand up when he gets closer. A spring in her step. His hand on her cheek. You can’t watch from now.


	12. My Face (01:39)

Her hand covering his. Fingers slotting between fingers. Thumb slowly brushing off the dirt. No one knows who they are here. Hidden in the quiet pockets of time like the shadows slinking just outside of the frames captured inside the party. Curious blurs in the corners of candids. A blur that only she, or he, can put together, together. From start to finish, womb to wanton love.

Twisting off each other, a seizure of camera flashes, starlight, moonless night. Dennis plunged in white, Dee catching treetops in the saucers of her eyes. The alligators, bored, retreat to new, less willing prey. She breaks, and breathes, and holds his hand to her cheek.


	13. I’m Happy, She Said (17:53)

 - - - - - - - - - -


End file.
